


The RatPack: Trouble at Home.

by Gold_Diamond



Category: My Hero Academia
Genre: Action, Crime, Gang warfare, Heroes, Narcotics Consumption, Narcotics Distribution, New Orleans, OC’S - Freeform, Villains, mha - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:47:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26890909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gold_Diamond/pseuds/Gold_Diamond
Summary: “When quirks first began to appear, governments all across the world struggled to keep up with this new and dangerous evolution in humanity. Some places managed well, like Japan, or Spain, while others are still in the throes of chaos as supremely powerful and grand villains form small armies to expand and spread their influence. One such place, is New Orleans. A group of unremarkable and semi-competent individuals band together to put an end to the tyranny they’ve experienced in there homeland, and so, the RatPack was formed.”Howdy! This is my first Fanfic and shot at solo writing! It’s far from finished, and I ain’t sure where I wanna take it, but I’ll try and update it pretty regularly! I ain’t sure entirely on how to use the tags, but just to be safe, I have this marked for mature audiences! However, there will be no fluff or NSFW in terms of intercourse or anything, at most maybe the mention of it, but nothing graphic, detailed, or expounded upon. Hope y’all enjoy!
Kudos: 2





	1. Rainy Day, Dream Away.

*Tick, tock. Tick, tock.* Tick tock went the incessantly annoying clock in the right hand corner of the dingy, smelly, and cramped hotel room Benny resided in. He gave it a scornful glance, only to find it was 5:14 a.m, a... suboptimal time to remain awake, but a time he found himself experiencing 

Rousing himself into a more complete state of consciousness, he slowly slid his feet off the bed and onto the floor, which, he remembered were covered with stray arms, legs, and even heads of his companions who accompanied him to this destination and who had offered to aid him in this little quest of his. He was grateful, and resentful towards their compassion, need for action, and bond, as, if it were up to Benny, he would’ve simply left these fine folks behind in an effort to keep them away from anything potentially dangerous, instead of what’s happening presently, which is a final nights rest after a weekend of traveling on foot before an encounter with a supposedly influential figure he prayed was nearby.

He and his posse were here for one reason, and one reason alone; bring the N.O.C Gangster known as Cloudman to justice, be it by apprehension and detainment of the target, or, if need be, execution. He rose to his feet and sauntered softly towards the rooms kitchen area; thankfully hidden behind a wall that prevented light from disturbing the others, before getting a glass of cloudy looking tap water. It was cool to the touch and felt like ice against his dry tongue, but he couldn’t tell if that was because he was hot or not, the weather had been terrible recently in these parts, and that was largely thanks to their target, who possessed a quick capable of making alterations to the surrounding areas weather within a large vicinity.

Obviously, a “Villain” such as Cloudman was not fit to hold an ability quite like that, and it stood to reason that his recent rise through the ranks of his gang was only possibly because of the potential others saw in him. He was appointed a sort of special role and made into a corrupt version of a Televangelist, preaching the bad word about how “great and mighty” the New Orleans Clubbers were and how to join and die for them would be “an honorable and valiant sacrifice”. Why or how the party people of New Orleans grew to become a massive gang capable of great good and evil was unknown, but what was known was that their current leader was pushing for the great evil, unlike the previous and noble leaders who strove for an ideal future for all of New Orleans.

Because of this corruption and inability on the polices part to do much about it (or more likely, their unwillingness to do anything) the job of purifying and restoring good to the streets fell upon Benny, and, inadvertently, his group. Each of them were fairly capable in their own ways, but the fact of the matter is thus, they were underwhelming. And that made his outlook on doing anything too terribly remarkable grim.

Nevertheless, he drank down the cool liquid with a faux confidence that he put up mainly to reassure himself that things would go smoothly. After the drink, he felt a rumble in his stomach signify him of a growing hunger that he would do well to take care of before any work is done. Resigning himself to go to the groups designated “snack bag” he fiddled around as quietly as he could, eventually feeling the plastic casing of his oh-so desired treat, Venison Jerky! Grabbing it with a ferocity rivaled by only the most enraged of foes or passionate of people he tore the plastic seal away and quickly chucked a few small pieces of the dried and salted meat into his mouth, chewing silently as he looked on out the window, a gentle rain beginning as he contemplated the posses next move.

Benny wasn’t exactly a leader or anything, but with no designated head of this small band to consistently drive the others in a singular direction, he sometimes felt the need to assume an authoritative attitude and wrangle them all into fighting for a specific goal. That usually had varied results as compared to the more scattered and leaderless mode of operation He was about to grab another piece of Jerky, when he felt the unmistakeable presence of another person in the lit room, yet everywhere he looked, there was no one to be seen.

Even after rising up and moving a few things around, he still couldn’t find the source that gave him this feeling. That is, until he turned and saw the nearly solid white Trevor Varsh sitting quietly in the chair where he once sat. Trevor was an odd person, and a mute to boot, but he meant well and was a helluva vigilante, capable of quite a lot! Benny would’ve normally taken this intrusion on his private time in a negative way, but right now, he simply couldn’t be bothered to get riled up over something he knew was trivial.

He sat in the chair just opposite of Trevor, whom, knowing Benny didn’t understand a lick of ASL (American Sign Language) began instinctively grabbing for a small notebook filled with doodles that he didn’t draw and used chiefly for communicating with others. Benny simply raised a hand, before speaking in a light tone of voice.

“Howdy Trevor, couldn’t sleep either? Or, did I wake ya? And don’t write the answer out, I’ve been tryin’ ta get a feel for this sign language stuff so we can talk easier.”

Trevor shrugged, before messing with the young cowboy by signing in a rapid motion, like a sort of rapper who let loose their lyrical cries through gestures of the hands.

“Nah, couldn’t stop thinking about how fun this should be! We have not faced anyone like this before, I hope he’ll actually be challenging!”

Benny scratched his head, before furrowing his brow and placing his chin within his palm. “The smug bastard was obviously not taking this seriously, people could get hurt! Fer chrissake *they* could get hurt!” Benny thought, before sighing and asking Trevor to write out whatever the hell it was he had signed so that he could properly talk to em. Trevor did as requested and wrote what he had already tried to communicate down, before sliding the notebook over to Benny.

“Bit overconfident eh? Trevor, this dude isn’t like the other mooks and low-rankers we’ve dealt with, this guy is toughie, or his quirk is at least. That’s why we’ve gotta do this carefully, now, I’ve gotta plan and-“

An over dramatic expression of doubt followed by an eye roll informed Benny that Trevor still had his doubts after that last mission went really badly. But to the hotshot, it was nuthin’ but a set back, something they could and did overcome after promptly kicking a few more bad guy assess! Trevor began to write within his notebook once more, the sound of lead hitting paper nearly mesmerizing Benny back into a comfortably soothed sleep, until it had abruptly stopped and alerted him to the next string of words written in the typical cursive that weird prick wrote in. There was nothin’ too crazy about it, it was just really, really smooth, like a damn computer wrote it or something.

“Don’t stress man, this “Cloudman” chump is just a dude who got by via his quirk, we attack him all at once though, and he’s D-O-N-E fucked! Besides, worst comes to worst I can just go invisible and stab him through the heart, thats what we’ve always said we’d resort to if the going got tough, didn’t we?”

“Gatdamnit Trevor we are NOT gonna kill someone if we can help it! Killing is a last resort, something we’d do if it was us or those scumbags we fight against, not a tool used for our normal work ya friggin’ lunatic. And if you were jokin’ I couldn’t tell! Ya hardly express enough for me to tell if you’re ever joking or serious.”

Benny slid the notebook back over, this time not paying anymore head to the very pale man as he munched on some more Jerky whilst looking out the window. A tap on the shoulder and a finger pointed towards the makeshift beds let him know Trevor was retiring once more, unhindered by the prospect of doing what they did, he would fall asleep swiftly. Benny, now done with the Jerky, followed suite.

———————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

CASE FILES: RATPACK.

Suspect: Benny Henderson.

Quirk: Sticky Hand.

Age: 24 (Based off of witness reports)

Height: 5’4 (From eye witness reports)

Weight: 134lbs (roughly)

Description: “Detective Jeux Zenigata reporting in the sightings of the so-called “RatPack”, from what me and my men had discovered, they seem to be a freedom fighting group of vigilantes gunning for the members belonging to any of New Orleans prominent gangs in an effort to restore things to the way they once were. The one we were able to get the most info on is this Benny fella, he goes by an alias, but most of the folks seem to know him by name. He dresses like a cowboy, speaks in a southern accent, and is fairly capable at gunslinging as shown by the barroom incident. Aside from that, he seems to be the most aggressive of the group, willing to get into a fight with most punks and gangsters at the slightest of provocations. That is all.”

———————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

The next morning, Benny awoke to the sound of his crew members going about their typical morning activities: brushing their teeth, combing their hair, making last minute adjustments to pieces of equipment they used, those sorts of things. The first to greet him when he rose out of bed was the eldest member of the team, Terrence Callahan, who met him with a stern nod before resuming their preparations for the mission. 

Benny freshened up, ate, then donned his costume that helped hide his identity... to a degree. Alongside the costume; which was nothing more than a yellow button up shirt, blue jeans, boots, feathered cowboy hat, and a bandit mask, he grabbed two holsters, one for each of the snub nosed 44.’s he carried around for situations like this. With him and the others ready, they packed their bags and checked out of the hotel.

As they left, a few hushed murmurs let them know that they were slowly beginning to gather unwanted attention, something that’d make this hit much harder to carry out. “Then again, that’s what happens when you let an artist design the costumes the group will wear out into battle”, Benny thought as he gave a quick glance at Gabriel. 

After a momentary pause, Trevor was ironically the one to break the silence after he snapped his fingers and began slowly signing. 

“What car will we drive? We still using that shitty van, or do we get something cool? Do we get a limousine? That’d be rad!”

The person to speak up was Alex, owner of the “shitty van”, who was irked at the off-hand comment regarding her only vehicle. Her voice was deep and aggressive, as usual, but now with a flare of irritation to really get the silent fella to knock it off. 

“Listen you prick, just be fuckin’ happy I’m even letting you ride in the damn thing. I haven’t seen you pay for gas or drive us around, so unless you feel like doing either of those, quit being a dick. Now, seeing as how we need to stay undercover, I say we use the van, it’s suspicious yes, but by the time they start to question it we’ll already have Cloudboy hogtied and abducted. Cool?” 

Everyone nodded their heads in agreement, save for Terrence who would’ve much preferred a safer and stealthier option. They tossed their bags in the back and piled in, one after another, before all six of them were inside. Alex was once more designated the driver and did well in chauffeuring the six towards their destination. She parked just across from the seedy looking dive bar Cloudman supposedly got his work orders from, before exiting the thing entirely, the rest following suite.

With all of them ready, they began their attack. Alex took Trevor with her around the back, whilst Benny and Terrence readied up for an attack towards the front of the building. The last two members, Jolly and Gabriel, stepped forth to provide a diversion for the rest of their comrades, Jolly grabbing a laptop with a live feed ready to be set up, while Gabriel put on the act of “Failed Artist” as he stepped into the establishment and began setting up cameras for Jolly. 

All that was left was for Benny to signify the start of the attack, and he did so in his usual fashion, by slamming the door open and sauntering in confidently, drawing a few hateful gazes towards him as he stepped towards the center of the room. He cleared his throat before announcing loudly,

“Cloudman! Getcher ass out here! I’m takin’ ya in, and ain’t nuthin’ you can say or do gon’ stop me!” 

This, obviously, caused a few present gangsters to rise up and draw their weapons or activate their quirks, but they were quickly stopped as Benny drew his guns and shot them in non-vital areas, places like the arms, legs, shoulders, just about anywhere he could hit them without putting them at too much risk. The display of speed and accuracy garnered appraisal from the groups target, who now stood confidently before the cowboy.

He had a southern accent, similar to Benny, yet different in the way that he sounded more like a backwater preacher rather than someone from the country.

“Okay, okay, you got my attention, let’s keep this here smooth, alright? Ain’t no need for y’all to get hurt now. Just turn around and walk out, I’ll have my boys pick you up and they can decide what to do with you, otherwise, I’ll just kill you here and now.” 

“Save the theatrics for the judge ya dirty hack, put yer hands where I can see em and turn around. Do you understand? If not, I’ll gun you down where ya stand.”

Cloudman complied and followed the orders Benny gave. Benny approached, zip tie in hand, only to be nearly struck by lightning. Cloudman whipped around and shoved the cowboy back, using his quirk to send another few lightning bolts down to the earth in random directions as rain poured from the sky. Benny did his best to slip out of the way, but the suddenness of the counterattack nearly caused his heart to burst with shock. Cloudman laughed and simply stood with his arms crossed as he looked down at the wannabe hero.

“See? I told you, I can just kill you here and now. Now kindly give up so I can go back to my drinks buddy, I’m gettin’ tired of wastin’ my time on you. Oh, and even if you somehow do beat me, I still have plenty of men with me to handle yer sorry ass!”

As if on cue, Alex and Trevor burst through the back door, Alex bleeding from multiple lacerations and abrasions, and Trevor wielding a sharp throwing knife, both of them ready to wreck their opponents shit. Similarly, Terrence entered the fray, inciting Gabriel to drop his act and activate his quirk, creating a thick and multicolored oily liquid that he could use to help the others in this fight. 

Cloudman hollered at the sight, confident that this sudden shift on numbers meant nothing.

“Hah! So what? You got some more punks. Big deal! I’ve still got plenty of guards at my disposal! MEN, GET IN HERE AND KILL THESE SAVAGES.” 

But there was no response, Alex and Trevor had already saw to it that they would have plenty of time to deal with this villain uninterrupted. That pissed the villain off, causing him to send another volley of lightning strikes down at random. The group fared well against the unreadable attacks, but the worst happened, and one of his mighty attacks landed. 

Unfortunately for him, it was on Alex, who promptly grabbed a chair and threw it at him with enough force to knock him down onto his back. Benny followed it up by activating his own quirk, that being, Sticky Hand. His arm transformed into a gelatinous green substance with a large hand affixed to the end. He slung it forward and wrapped it around the gangster, putting him into bind Benny felt confident he could escape from, even if he did use his quirk. 

Still, just to be safe, Alex smashed a bourbon bottle over his head and knocked the baddie out for good. Gabriel sent the multicolored fluid away, happy he needn’t use his ability for anything so barbaric as a bar fight, before running out and retrieving the van for them. Benny smiled and let out a short chortle before saying, 

“Another job well done! Shouldn’t have been so worried, this guy was a push over!” 

They loaded the unconscious criminal into the van and began their escape, it was only a matter of time before the heroes and police arrived, and he was certain that they wouldn’t get off the hook just because they took in a villain. They stopped just outside a police station, before flinging the backdoors to the van open and throwing the bastard out onto the concrete, then, Gabriel floored it to get out of there.

———————————————————————————————————————————————————————————  
CASE FILES: NEW ORLEANS CLUBBERS.

Status: Gang (Large Scale)

Estimated Member Count: 38,201

Leader: ???

Description: “Detective Jeux Zenigata reporting on the second largest gang in New Orleans, the New Orleans Clubbers. They are commonly referred to as the N.O.C, and their members don the color purple as a sort of signature color. From what I could discover, they used to be a small time militia formed by partygoers to ward off villain attacks and keep parties going, but after a few years and much more organization, they seem to have an unshakable chain of command and a keen interest on luring unsuspecting tourists into their parties to kidnap them and force them into doing manual labor. Although we have arrested plenty of unremarkable gangsters off the streets, we can’t get a solid lead out of any of them, most of the hooks we get go nowhere and end up being wastes of time. Attempts at capturing notable figures within the gang have led to severe injuries received by officers carrying out the apprehension.”

———————————————————————————————————————————————————————————


	2. The Colorful Soldiers, the Smiling Men!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “After hearing of bad news regarding the groups last target, the RatPack heads out and encounters a group of ever vigilante and undeniably stylish heroes known as The Smiling Men!”

Loud sounds of celebration and merry-making rang throughout the halls of the Callahan family estate after the groups overwhelming victory over a few more New Orlean’s Clubber scumbags. Each of them rejoicing in their own ways, be it by slugging back shots of whiskey, bandaging up small cuts and scrapes, or singing and dancing. 

Trevor broke away from the festivities to seek out Alex, who was currently preoccupied with tending to her minor injuries. Something had rubbed him the wrong way when they started taking out the reserve bodyguards that Cloudman jerk had stashed away, and that was that they were able to actually hurt his friend. By all accounts, that’s not normally something to dwell on, but Alex had a quirk called “Toughness”, and it activated whenever she flexed any of her muscles. Essentially, she could flex and turn her muscles into steel! Pair that with her already admirable reflexes and you had one tough customer on your hands. But that begged the question of how? How did small time punks with switchblades and broken bottles manage to either A. Get the drop on her (which was impossible due to them being the ones to incite conflict in the first place), or B. Weaken or strengthen either themselves or Alex to the point of dealing damage. Perhaps he was just reading too much into it, after all, even he was still caught doing things after going invisible from time to time. Or maybe... maybe she was distracted by something? 

Placing himself on a fancily carved wooden chair that was surely purchased decades ago by one of Terrence’s great-grandparents or great-great-grandparents, he snapped his fingers, drawing Alex’s attention over to him long enough to fire off a few signs and try to see what was up.

“Hey, you okay? You don’t ever get hurt, so I figured I’d... you know, I’d check and see if you were holding up alright and if you were wanting to talk.”

Alex sighed, then turned away, not sure how to respond, as, something had indeed been on her mind for awhile now. While maybe not something serious, it was apparently enough to make her lose focus on the task at hand. 

“I’m fine, it isn’t anything bad, just... we’ve been taking a whole bunch of guys in now right? Haven’t exactly been keeping count now, but surely we’re in the sixties after all this time, so why doesn’t it feel like we’ve made any progress? I just wanna help you guys out and do what I can, we all share that in common... I think. But when we spend six months doing the same thing over and over again with no change, it starts to feel like maybe we’re approaching things at the wrong angle. Think about it, what good is taking out all these mooks when they’re replaced by the end of the week!”

Trevor took a deep breath, then signed slowly, carefully choosing what words he’d string together so as not to have his meaning misinterpreted. He had a similar to the one Alex had, yet the conclusion he came to was that they were just going slowly. They had taken down someone kinda important, so surely that was a sign of good things to come and future improvements right?

“Hey now, don’t be so glum! We only just started going after the big fish, so don’t sweat it! I agree that maybe we should’ve done certain things better, but we’re only humans. Barring that, we aren’t even certified or pro heroes, so any sort of thinking like that isn’t something we are going to automatically have, so just stick with it and voice any concerns you have!”

The little pep-talk got a smile out of the usually stoic Alex, who gave thanks to her teammate before continuing to bandage her arms and shoulders. There was also that lightning strike, but that was something Terrence himself attended to.

See, Terrence was born into affluence, and he wasn’t afraid nor ashamed to invest into the group of freedom fighting vigilantes who had yet to give themselves a name. A good bit of this money was spent of back alley practitioners or medicine with quirks suited for conducting these illegal practices, typically making use of a quirk that can regrow things, or convert inanimate objects into organic mass that could be used in surgical procedures. Alex, having become something of a regular, received a more friendly treatment and more thorough examination of injuries. 

These doctors were able to repair damaged and scarred skin that had been burnt by Cloudman’s lightning strike, but not the cuts, their exact words were “That ain’t nothing, come back when your actually hurt!”. 

“Hey Trevor, wanna get everyone together and see if we made the news? I’m feeling lucky tonight, and I think we have a good shot after that job we pulled, whadda you say?”

Trevor nodded and clapped his hands, smiling smugly as he directed everyone to Terrence’s living room, where a large flatscreen TV was mounted on the immaculately tidy white walls of the building. He snatched up the remote and with a click turned the device on, quickly flipping to the local news outlets that reported on stuff going on in New Orleans. 

The news anchor talked to his co-host about some booming business that sold Pastries and Baked goods, until the moment the six had been waiting for finally came! Footage of a small, burnt, busted up bar appeared onscreen as several men clad in purple we’re being taken into police custody for questioning. These, of course, were the N.O.C, the Purple Party People who had been causing a whole heaping load of trouble for just about everyone. The group gave a collective cheer, Benny even going so far as to make a toast to the groups good work in order to properly emphasize how great this was.

However, the celebration was short lived, and the feed was soon switched to one onsite of the police station they had dropped Cloudman off at. A row of text spelling out BREAKING NEWS appeared and a panicked looking reporter quickly began explaining the situation as best as he could.

“We are reporting live at the Bourbon Street Police Station, where one of the New Orleans Clubber’s has just been broken out by several armed and dangerous individuals sporting the gangs signature color. Citizens should be advised that these suspects may still be evading the law and running loose, if you encounter these gangsters, run, hide, call the authorities, but do not, I repeat, do NOT, engage with them. I’m Chip Dutley, reporting for-“ 

A press of the button ended the long winded report, as well silence that hung heavily in the air. Trevor paused for a moment, before slumping back into his seat and running a hand through his hair, reflecting on all the effort they went through to capture that villain and how it was for naught.

Terrence wasn’t too keen on the news either, and as he stood shakily from his seat he mumbled a few expletives under his breath out of frustration. In all honesty, he was absolutely planning on leaving that tedious affair of capturing some low ranking nobody to Benny, but the others wished to do it, and he’d invested quite a bit of money into them for the lot to just run off and hop get themselves killed or imprisoned. But no, it just HAD to be undone, the one thing they did that could’ve been worthwhile was now... now... damnit!

“Gentlemen, I don’t wish to, erm, how do you say? “Take this lying down”? If you’ll pardon my French, I want to go and grab that sonuvabitch right now! I’ll be damned if I let our efforts go to waste!”

Jolly, Benny, and Gabriel sprung from their seats with an enthusiasm that could revitalize even the most downtrodden, but alas, Alex and Trevor remained still, staring at the black screen of the TV with a sort of solemn and melancholy air about them that told the others everything they needed to know for the time being.

Terrence took the reigns this time around and snatched the keys off of Alex, who didn’t move or attempt to stop them as they ran out the door towards her van. Terrence himself opted to drive while the others changed back into their outfits for the second time that day.

———————————————————————————————————————————————————————————  
CASE FILES: RATPACK

Suspect: Alexa Cassidy  
Age: 22  
Weight: 188lbs  
Height: 6’4  
Description: “Officer Franziska Hammermeld filling in for Detective Jeux Zenigata reporting the latest information we were able to collect from regarding another member of the vigilante gang dubbed “The RatPack”. We learned that this “Alexa” used to be a prize fighter in Texas, and a successful one at that. However, after a seemingly steady career in MMA, she retired and moved. Furthermore, she has a track record of physical altercations from even before her involvement with the RatPack, indicating that she had a violent attitude and is merely using the gang as an excuse to find more people to beat. Despite this need to fight, she has not killed anyone as of yet.”

———————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

After an hour long drive and a few outbursts of road rage, the hollering intellect emerged from the drivers side of the van. He knocked on the back of the vehicle to get the rest to pop out, before pulling up a map on his phone to see where they we’re in correlation to the bar they wrecked, in Terrence’s mind, if they went back, there might be someone they could question, aside from the police or any heroes who seemed to not take too kindly to them for whatever reason.

What they found awaiting them was something they couldn’t have expected, not even in a million years. As a group of color coordinated people dressed in matching outfits that offered small or minuscule variation or changes began to strike poses in front of a N.O.C street thug. The thug, confused and slightly scared, began to creep away as these folks did their poses, before breaking out into a full on sprint to put some distance between him and the odd figures.

The group didn’t stop at the sight, and simply finished doing their poses before the supposed leader of the bunch shouted “HUDLE UP!” And formed a circle with his crew, before a feminine looking character emerged from the circle. She was clad in one of the same matching outfits, with the only thing making it stand out is its soft purple coloring that covered it from top to bottom, only broken up by streaks of grey provided by a series of harnesses, tool belts, and lord knows what else.

She stuck her fist onto her sides before standing as tall as she could, saying in a voice so commanding and serious that it nearly betrayed the absurdity of the situation as a whole.

“Stop villainous scum! Or face the wrath of the Colorful Soldiers, the Smiling Men! I am Smiling Ocean Blue, and if you fail to comply I will be forced to use any means necessary to apprehend you!”

The villain, of course, did NOT stop and did NOT feel safer knowing that he was dealing with a bunch of nutjobs and psychopaths. If anything, he felted panicked, which inadvertently caused him to run faster than before! The so-called “Smiling Blue” Lady shook her head as she assumed a sprinting stance, once she did, she practically burst forward in a blue blur of speed, knocking the gangster to the ground with a thud!

“Talk villain! Where are the rest of your comrades in darkness? Where can we find your leader?!”

The gangster blurted out a name and was unhanded just as quickly as they were tackled by the blue flash. She darted back towards her group and gave a sort of salute to the lime green clad figure, telling him in a hushed tone something Terrence and the others could quite make out. 

“Hey uh, Terrence, ya thing we oughta see if they have any info? I ain’t in the business of dealin’ with heroes and the like, but if we wanna do something real good, it might help to learn what they know!” 

“Hush now Blam Blam, and don’t call me by my first or last name when we’re doing work, it’s unwise. Just let me think about this and I’ll tell you what would be best, alright?” 

Benny grunted and leaned back into his seat beside Gabriel, letting the posh sum bitch figure it out on his own damn self. 

Terrence quickly formed a plan of action on what to do, deciding that if he was to approach the squadron of heroes, he’d need he help of Jolly. 

“Okay, I think I can get some good information out of them with a bit of persuasion, but I might need your help Jolly, I don’t feel comfortable going at this one alone, would that be alright madam?” 

“O’course it is ya bleedin’ idiot! What th’ hell am I supposed to do anyways?! I’ve been waitin’ awhile fer a chance to do somethin’!” 

Jolly had a heavy Irish accent, something that most noticed first about her. The second thing they’d notice would also relate to her voice, which was crisp and clear. See, she was a singer, and a performer, something this grouped valued since that made her one hell of a distraction. 

Terrence and Jolly exited the still running automobile and slowly approached the group, hoping they wouldn’t get the wrong impression since Terrence was clad in his classy suit used for vigilante work and Jolly dressed similarly. 

As they got close, one of the members dressed in Black held a firm palm outward at them, stopping them in their tracks as they all turned their attention to the duo. 

Once all members had seen the two, the green man ordered them to “take position!”, causing the team to strike individual poses one by one until the green leader struck his, each of them shouting out their names and color as they did so. 

“The Colorful Soldier of Flames, Smiling Inky Black!” A deep voice boomed out with an air of malice in it, giving Terrence a small bit of insight on the member. 

“The Colorful Soldier of Style, Smiling Dirt Brown!” A feminine voice uttered out, almost as if they were uncomfortable saying the phrase. 

“The Colorful Soldier of Speed, Smiling Ocean Blue!” This voice, very clearly a woman’s, was loud and energetic, as if this introduction was something that demanded much effort. Which to these chaps, it might. 

“The Colorful Soldier of Info, Smiling Sunny Yellow!” This voice was that of a young mans, possibly no older than a college students. 

“The Colorful Soldier of Might, Smiling Royal Purple!” The voice that spat this phrase out wasn’t particularly interesting, rather, the source of the voice itself was as a man who, as Benny would put it, “Was built like a brick shit-house” struck his pose and cried out his title. 

“And finally, the Colorful Soldier or Strategy, Smiling Lime Green!” This, Terrence suspected, was the leader of the bunch, and a loose yellow scarf around the green figures neck that made him stand out from the others supported that theory. 

After one final and drawn out moment, they all did a coordinated pose with the tallest of the group in the back and the smallest in the front. 

“We are the Colorful Soldiers! The Smiling Men!” They yelled in unison. 

Terrence was unimpressed by the display, but Jolly was in awe at their theatrical performance and way of introducing themselves. 

Smiling Green asked, “What can we do to help you fine citizens with today?” 

To which Terrence replied “We saw a commotion nearby and wanted to make sure everything was alright. We didn’t realize you ladies and gentlemen were heroes, so we were concerned this may have been something to do with those awful Clubber fellows. 

“I’m afraid to say it was! A villain named “Cloudman” was apprehended by a bunch of vigilantes and arrested, but no sooner was he arrested that he was busted out. We’re currently trying to track him down since getting him could help us reach the others! Blue here was just saying that they were up at the Fish Packing plant up-“ 

The Blue heroine elbowed him roughly, stopping him from divulging any more information than necessary, and even through the masks, it was clear she was giving him a dirty look. 

Lime Green then had to go and ask the worst question possible for Terrence, 

“What are you two really doing here? Pardon me for being so blunt but I think it’s important you answer truthfully. And don’t try to backtrack, no one would be asking about the Clubbers at this time of night right after that stunt they pulled without wanting something to do with them.” 

“Hey, Green, Cmon man, I screwed up, no need to get suspicious of these folks because of it. I’m sorry, alright?” 

Yellow spoke solemnly, feeling partially responsible for the hostility directed at the newcomers even though he hadn’t truly made any mistakes besides the over-indulgence of information. 

“Er, yes... indeed, indubitably! I say. Ergo... uh... ah to heck with it! We were hoping to get a scoop on them. We’re amateur journalists you see and came here after hearing rumors of some huge gang rivalry going on! I’m sorry I wasn’t upfront, but we knew we couldn’t get anything out of you if we were!” 

Lime Green stared at them, the expressionless and smooth green mask with a black visor made Terrence shift uncomfortably as the pro hero mulled over the story. But after deliberating on it, he dismissed them 

“Alright then, I’ll let you go this time. But don’t lie to heroes Citizens! It could put you or someone else in serious danger! Do you need any help getting home?” 

Terrence shook his head and quickly ushered Jolly and himself away. They entered the van and let out a collective sigh of relief, 

“That “Smiling Green” devil was sharp! I didn’t think he’d be so suspicious of us. Guess he’s their leader for a reason! Oh, but that Yellow fellow did give us a spot of intel, apparently our guy is holed up at an old fish place up the way, I’m sure we can spot it as we drive around, that sound neat to you three?” 

Jolly clapped happily and agreed, while Gabriel and Benny remained more cautious about the scene, not wanting to walk into a potential ambush and all since these gangs do have a few heroes in their ranks.

———————————————————————————————————————————————————————————  
CASE FILES: THE SMILING MEN.

Status: Pro-Hero Group  
Members: Six  
Description: “Officer Franziska reporting once more in place of Detective Zenigata. We have recently been receiving help from a group of new heroes known as “The Smiling Men”, they are an extremely well coordinated group of heroes who have been making a name despite only recently having been formed. The members dress in similar costumes with the most notable distinction between them being the costumes color, they are as follows: Black, Brown, Purple, Yellow, Blue, and the groups Leader, Green. Each play a key role in the group, but it is worth noting that Brown and Black are interns who have yet to officially become “Smiling Men”. Green himself has expressed distrust towards Black as he has apparently proven to be a dangerous liability to them, and the people they protect.“

———————————————————————————————————————————————————————————


	3. Takedown.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Investigations of the warehouse mentioned by Smiling Yellow lead to a catastrophic event unfolding."

CHAPTER THREE: TAKEDOWN  
It didn’t take long for the group to arrive at the warehouse mentioned by Smiling Yellow, and it took even less time for the four of them to ready themselves for battle and burst through a metal door sealed with a partially rusted lock. Benny, ever searching for a chance to show off his gunplay, scanned around warily with his guns raised and his trigger finger ready. But the others noticed something was off, there was no group of gangsters, there were no armed guards or slavering hounds eager to rend the meaty flesh of an intruder into pieces, and there were no noises out of the ordinary.

But then they noticed it, the unmistakable sound of motorcycle engines drawing closer and closer, and before they could react, heavy footsteps began to ring out from all around the warehouse, indicating the group of an immediate and potentially dangerous situation. Gabriel and Jolly hid where they could, be it behind empty cardboard boxes or piles of rotting 2x4s, but Benny and Terrence had other ideas. Benny was stubborn and confident, a dangerous combination for someone in his line of work, so instead of running or hiding, he stood right where he was, facing the front entrance boldly with his weapons still drawn. Terrence chose to try and act wisely by leaping behind and concealing himself underneath a tarpaulin, leaving himself just enough of an opening to see out of while staying undetectable. 

Soon enough, the door to the front creaked open, and behold, black death appeared before the faux cowboy wearing black leathers, boots, and a helmet that hid its face. The only noise that was made by the thing that made it clear that the one Benny was dealing with was human was a low, spiteful chuckle. Benny raised the revolvers and aimed them squarely at the mans face, confident that they didn’t mean well.

“Hey now partner, you wanna explain to me just what in the hell yer doin’ in here? This place is supposed to be some sorta gang hideout, and you don’t look like our targets… so who exactly are you?”

The leather-clad man eyed Benny, almost as if assessing whether he was someone worth speaking to, before raising his arms in an all too relaxed position of mock surrender. In the blink of an eye six more men entered the building, each brandishing their own different type of weapon, ranging from spiked brass knuckles embedded with gems and stained with blood to claw hammers and magnums. The few armed with guns took aim at Benny and without hesitation fired, sending lead flying at the cowboy faster than the speed of sound. Benny, unable to react fast enough, was hit multiple times in varying locations, but the area that sustained the most damage was the abdomen, and as the bikers unloaded their guns’ magazines into the vigilante, the leader waltzed over and took the now still mans guns from him, admiring the twin .44s briefly before barking in a cold, shrill voice out to his men. 

“Take him outside and get to work dissolving him, the rest of you keep looking around for any more stupid hobos who stepped onto our new grounds.”

Two men nodded at their boss’s command, each of them grabbing one part of Benny, one man grabbing the head and shoulders, while the other grabbed the legs. They hoisted Benny up and removed him from the building and out of sight from Terrence. Jolly, Gabriel, and Terrence had to restrain themselves from giving their presence away via reacting, some of them having more difficulties than the others since they had just witnessed one of their friends get gunned down right before their very eyes. Nonetheless, they stayed silent. Gabriel, teary eyed and shaken to his core quickly turned to Jolly, whispering nigh silently so as not to draw the attention of the attackers to their location.

“W-we need to get out of here. Now. I-I… I don’t want to get killed here, not like that, and definitely not in the way Benny was murdered!” 

“And what about Terrence?! Do you wanna leave him behind or something? If you want to leave then go, but take Terrence with you, I might be able to draw them away using my quirk, so long as you still have a few cameras on you that is.”

Gabriel nodded, unsure about the hastily cobbled together plan, but to panicked to care about it. He placed a small camera down and positioned it so that it had a clear view of the warehouse, then, without another word, he began sneaking his way behind the bikers, exiting through the front doors before bolting away, forgetting about the van entirely and resigning himself to simply running back to base on foot. 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
CASE FILES: THE SMILING MEN

Subject: Smiling Green.  
Quirk: Finger Beam.  
Status: Hero Group Leader.  
Description: “Officer Franziska reporting once more on The Smiling Men. The subject of this report is one Smiling Green, a hero that’s new to the hero business like the rest of his group but is incredibly competent when working. He has an average quirk made practical through extensive training and application on the field and is a close ally to the police due to multiple joint operations performed between the police and The Smiling Men. In summary, he is a newbie with incredible leadership skills and a lot a potential.”

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

With the cameras in place, Jolly made her move. Shuffling her feet to squeeze through an opening and get back to the van before situating herself in the drivers’ seat. What she was about to do was dangerous, stupid, and unbelievably risky, but the thought of another ally being dispatched of so mercilessly strengthened her resolved and pushed her to go through with her on the fly plan of action. Jolly fished her phone from her pocket and tapped on a camera icon that would give her access to the cameras in the warehouse. 

She waited for the two that would, “Take care” of Benny to return before in an octave unable to be heard by anyone but the attackers, she sang. She sang, and sang, and in a matter of moments, the leather clad group was rushing out of the door in what was best described as a frenzy in order to find the source of the noise only they could hear, and promptly silence it. With the group of men charging to her location she immediately halted her singing and started the van, driving off back to Terrence’s estate where the vigilantes typically regrouped.

The warehouse, now free of any threats, had only one inhabitant residing with in it, a man whose heart pounded within his chest and who felt a slew of emotions rushing through them. At first, Terrence felt shock, but that was quickly replaced by fear, then anger, then sadness, finally ending with grief, which clouded his judgement and caused him to unwisely linger in the location and look for his defeated friend. Terrence moved to where he thought his friends’ body might be, looking around the back of the abandoned structure for any sign of the gunshot riddled remains. But oddly enough, he didn’t find any body, nor did he find anything that made much sense. What he did find was an eye, bloodied and half crushed sitting squarely on the filthy concrete next to a trail of blood. But this wasn’t exactly the time to play detective, and with the looming threat of the men returning, Terrence took his leave, returning to his home. All he could think about right now was getting far, far away from here.


End file.
